


(He Just) Stares at the World

by civil_war_was_a_disaster (balogan03)



Series: Time (Getting Beating to the Ground by Your "Friend" With the Help of Your Parents' Murderer) Really Puts Things in Perspective [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, New Avengers - Fandom, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Also like Tony gets amputated later, Captain Hypocrite - Freeform, Civil War Team Iron Man, Gen, He really needs a hug, Not Steve Rogers Friendly, Vision Is Pure, and of course Irondad and Spiderson, at least in the comics i understood why he opposed them, btw there is self-inflicted harm on here, but I might make it into a series or something, but still not super graphic, can't forget that dynamic, i hate mcu steve, if you don't like it don't read, it was just kind of on a impulse, it's not super graphic, its like they didn't even try to bring up valid points against the accords, not from wendy maxipad (ew), not team Cap friendly, now his argument is shit, probably have IronStrange in later parts, so i wrote this thing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-07
Updated: 2019-03-10
Packaged: 2019-11-13 07:21:16
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18027260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/balogan03/pseuds/civil_war_was_a_disaster
Summary: Siberia is so cold. But that's okay. Tony can survive.





	1. It’s Really Not Time for Self-Deprecating Jokes

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [(I Fought The War) The War Won](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14396850) by [RayShippouUchiha](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RayShippouUchiha/pseuds/RayShippouUchiha). 



**Chapter 1: It’s Really Not Time for Self-Deprecating Jokes**

**05:48 p.m.**  
_Abandoned HYDRA Base_  
_Siberia, Russia_

Ice was slowly seeping into his veins, freezing his blood and slowly but methodically killing him. His body was broken, his armor scratched and destroyed, and his arc reactor was cleanly split down the middle, looking much like what Tony’s heart felt like.

  
But his body felt numb to the brokenness and seemed to only feel the cold.

Tony had never been so cold in his life. The only other instance that comes to mind was when he was trapped in the wormhole with his suit disconnected and cut off from his air supply like a merciless god had decided he wasn’t worthy of oxygen any more.

But the wormhole wasn’t the same as the cold in Siberia.  
When the coldness of space was freezing his body and stealing his breath straight out of his mouth, his eyes watched as a missile flew into the mothership and destroyed the aliens destroying Earth. His body had gone cold but his insides felt warm and light; he had died for something, something bigger than him. Earth was safe and he was filled with something he later identified as peace.

He no longer felt peace.

His insides were instead withering, howling in discomfort as his heart did it’s best to pump out more blood than he was losing. His tongue felt heavy with discomfort and his mouth seemed unnaturally small and sickly, as if he was set to puke at any moment.

  
This, he thought, is what you feel when your friend beats you into the ground with the help of the man who killed your parents. Betrayal. That’s the word he’s thinking of, it’s the perfect definition.

  
All the discomfort and emptiness he was feeling, all summed up in one word. All wrapped up like a Christmas present at the bottom of a giant pine tree, waiting for a eager child to come unwrap it.

The feeling was stuffy and made him want to scratch off his skin to get rid of it. It was slowly suffocating him and Tony had the notation that dying in the abandoned HYDRA base at that moment wouldn’t be so bad - because, then, that feeling of despair and loneliness would be gone.

 

Everything would be gone. He hated that he found relief in that.

 

 

Time moved slowly, like sand in an hourglass - except it felt like a small child had taken the hourglass and kept turning it before the final grain of sand could drop, putting time at a standstill, like an all powerful God of Time.

  
His father had had an hourglass that Tony would sometimes played with as a little boy, fascinated by the hypnotizing grains as they dropped down, just watching the countdown as time ran out.

  
Until his father caught him and forbid him from touching his very important items. It was hard to forget that specific memory, his father’s silent disappointment bearing down on him (“Stark men are made of iron.”) and him, only four at the time, wondering what he had done wrong (“Mommy, what did I do to upset dad?”). So small . . .

 

Tony slowly but surely drifted off, no longer feeling pain in his body - just emptiness and loneliness filling now filling the empty space that pain had filled.

 

He dreamed of a little boy who played with his father’s hourglass, his smile, happy and pleasant. As Tony watched, ice transferred from the hourglass and spread up the boy’s fingers. The air turned cold and brittle as ice continued its work.

The boy’s carefree, loose body got tenser as the ice spread farther, until the only thing left is an ice sculpture of a sad, older man who bore only a faint resemblance of the little boy. The man’s eyes were tired and yearn for sleep. Haunting.

 

 

Tony woke up with a hammering heart just as a red, white, and blue shield flew at the man and shattered him, destroying the fragile sculpture and leaving only broken pieces behind.

 

 

Tony doesn’t know how much time had passed before he attempted to move his body. It was only to sit up and it shouldn’t hurt.

But it does.

  
He couldn’t even sit up because his suit was dead weight he wasn’t strong enough to move with all his injuries.

 

But the simple effort of attempting to move left him with a flash of pain that had him gasping for breath and promising himself not to attempt to move again.

  
His body felt like it would break at one small push, his skin splitting and his insides painting the snowy floors of a HYDRA base like a particularly gruesome painting. He internally grimaced at the thought before he gathered his determination and pushed away how pathetic he felt.

  
It’s a good thing he had his arc reactor removed so long ago. Otherwise, he would be dead. Except, his chest felt like it had caved and that wasn’t any better. He didn’t know if he had internal bleeding and desperately hoped not.

  
He tried to move his fingers and toes next, but could only feel a few fingers on his left hand and some toes. It worried him more than the pain does.

  
His entire right hand was numb and he couldn’t move it no matter how hard he tried. He randomly wondered if his hand had fallen off.

  
It’s disturbing how ironic he found it: he’d shot off Barnes’s metal arm and only hours later he would need a metal arm. But his sense of irony was lost in a wave of panic that threatened to drown him.  
Panic crawled up his throat, following the sobs and quiet whimper that left his mouth. He felt himself beginning to fall into a spiral of panicky thoughts as his eyes burned with unshed tears. Death would be a better option than this, he resolved, couldn’t Steve be bothered to at least finish the job-

  
He hastily cut his train of thought, breath catching and eyes hardening with blazing anger. Yes, anger. That’s what he needed. It gave him a twisted sense of purpose that he doesn’t want to admit he needed.

  
The sudden anger that consumed him was surprising. The anger had blown away how pathetic he felt, filling the emptiness in his heart with a fiery rush that should worry him but instead made his blood race in a good sort-of-way.

  
He was no longer panicked and afraid as hard stubbornness set in. Rogers was a fucking dick, he decided, and it was time that Tony realized this. Time apparently does give you perspective.

  
No, he corrected firmly, being beaten up and abandoned by your supposed friend gave you perspective. Lying there, with only his thoughts as company, had made Tony realize some things and sort through the thoughts flying around in his head.

  
He felt guilty about attacking Barnes. He’d let his emotions get the best of him, and he sternly promised himself he wouldn’t do it again. (He still felt deep fury and grief in his bones when he thought of Barnes, so maybe he should work on that before coming anywhere near the guy.)

  
However, Barnes still needed to be arrested; he’s killed who knows how many people and was still dangerous, because, despite how Rogers wanted to lie to himself, Barnes did kill those people. Whether it was Barnes’s fault or not was up to the justice system to decide.

  
Natasha would get hell from the Accords Council for switching sides (for once Tony felt no obligation to get her out of the hole she’d dug for herself), and the other Rogues would need to be brought in as well. But Tony couldn’t find it in his heart to care about them; instead, his mind focused on the man who was responsible for this mess.

 

Rogers could go to hell for all Tony cared.

 

Alright. So he’s lying.

  
He’s trying not to lie to himself however, so he’ll admit that he does care. But he’ll only admit it to himself, no one else needed to hear how he still cared about the man who came close to kill him.

Still.

It bothered him. Because he couldn’t get rid of the concern he felt for the man. No matter how much he doesn’t want to, he still cared about Rogers. And Tony hated himself for it.

  
Howard, Obie, and now _Steve_? It seemed like a running joke that the universe had on him. You think that person cares about you? Ha, Ha, Ha. Wonder how long it’ll take for the next person to betray him.

 

A stray thought about whether the media, when they catch wind of Siberia, will start a betting pool crossed his mind. He metaphorically shook his head to clear it from his weird thoughts and focused on the task at hand: first find a way out of this then think self-deprecating thoughts.

  
The Iron Man armor had many built in triggers to send out emergency signals. But the question that dawned on him is whether they would still work with the primary power source down. He felt stupid about making the arc reactor the only primary source and made a note to add multiple power sources in his suit design the next time he was in his workshop. If he even lived through his hellish nightmare.

  
Tony furrowed his eyebrows, dismayed and remembered Rogers’s face as he slammed the shield down in Tony’s chest, his eyes cold and icy blue (remembered the random observation that Zemo was right, there was a sliver of green in those baby blue eyes). The rush of anger from before coursed through him again and he welcomed it. Right now, it’s the only thing keeping him warm.

  
While his left hand could still move, he would need to move his entire arm into an awkward one-armed shrug to allow his thumb to hook onto the nearest trigger. There were some serious doubts about the plan that were floating around in his head. His arm doesn’t feel completely jacked up but it was sore from the fighting and his muscles groaned and creaked with every small twitch.

  
Plus, Tony doesn’t think he could move his arm far up enough to reach the trigger but maybe-

  
Biting his lip, and scowling at the taste of blood that’s bitter in his mouth, Tony quickly put his plan in action. It was already going to hurt his body much more but if he could do it quickly, he hoped the pain will be reduced - like ripping off a bandage (an annoying voice in his head informed him that it would be easier to soak a bandage in warm water and allow it to peel off).

  
He moved his shoulder as far as it could go, which turned out to be not that far. His thumb was still not in place with the trigger, as expected, and Tony steadied himself for the pain. It’s easy to pull his hand into a fist, he found, even though he could hardly feel three of his fingers. The thumb of his left hand goes inside the fist, and Tony pulled.

  
He pulled as hard as he could, fear clouding his mind, not wanting to think about the self-hurt he was inflicting on himself. Pain spiked his arm and overlapped the the pain he felt from the rest of his body. He wanted to scream, to let everyone around him feel his pain. But he knew it wouldn’t help him, so he muffled his cries but allowed tears to stream his face - no one was around to watch him cry.

  
The shots of pain continued to race up his arm from his thumb’s torn ligaments. It sparked an unwanted glee in Tony. The pain was unbearable, and he’s pretty sure he hadn’t passed out because of the adrenaline, but his plan could work - will work, it had to - and a seed of hope planted itself inside of Tony.

  
Thumb now successfully dislocated, he ignored the continuous needles of pain and pulled his thumb as far back as it could go. With the torn ligaments, his thumb could move farther back than usual, almost ending up parallel to his wrist.

  
It hurt like a bitch but the wrenching was worth it when the tip of his thumb caught the trigger and his suit beeped, reminding Tony of a flat-lined heart monitor that had suddenly had life again.

  
His lips, cracked and bleeding, split even more as a grin spread on his mouth. The smile felt crazy and too wild to be anything sane. However, sleep once again staked its claim on Tony before he could dwell too much on it.

 

 

 

 

 

**01:25 a.m.**  
_Precise Location Unknown_  
_Siberia, Russia_

 

 

Cold was not something Vision felt. As a synchronized android, he couldn’t experience anything such as cold weather in the same way he couldn’t taste food that he tried to make. But Siberia was undoubtedly cold. Even he felt it, not in his surface plating or wires but in something inside of him that was simply telling him that Siberia was unforgiving and cold.

  
It reminded him of Wanda. And just the thought of her name sent a jolt of unfamiliar feeling down his body. It seemed bitter and he didn’t like it at all so he ignored it and focused instead on the task at hand.

  
Siberia was unforgiving to anybody who didn’t come in prepared to face its harsh winds and icy landscape.

  
And it was equally unforgiving to Mr. Stark. They had gotten the emergency signal just thirty minutes ago, but Mr. Stark had been missing for over ten hours.  
FRIDAY had been in a haze of worry since she’d gotten disconnected from the suit. The Council was a mess following the actions of Captain Rogers so getting the green light on going into Russia was a difficult process.

  
However, the emergency signal allowed them to bypass most of the red tape.

  
FRIDAY, Colonel Rhodes, and Pepper Potts’s worry coupled with his own and the information that people were counting on him gave Vision the determination to fly just a tiny bit faster.

 

 

The Hydra base was not that different from the rest of the land. The openness of the place did not only allow snow in but it also gave Vision view of most of the base. Everything was white, with just a few random flashes of grey metal now and then.

  
Vision continued scanning for a sign of Mr. Stark.

 

His eyes caught a fleeting splash of red and he made his way to the room, phasing through the wall without a problem.

  
Mr. Stark was laying on the ground, still in his armor, which is stained with growing ice that filled the scratches on the armor. The ice didn’t quite reach the arc reactor, and Vision’s eyes lingered a bit on the broken machinery.

  
The face mask was not retracted but had been ripped clean off. Mr. Stark’s face was bare for the world to see.

  
Dark circles lined his closed eyes, in addition to a black eye, indicating how tired and sleep deprived he was. Face outlined by old and new wrinkles, his scars fit in perfectly.  
From his mouth, dried blood was crusting around his lips. The entire image gave Vision a bad feeling. Mr. Stark’s body was too still and gave everybody the impression that he was dead.  
The sound of the medic jet landing filtered through his ears and he hovered closer to Mr. Stark, paying no attention to the American shield and the metal arm in the corner. He floated next to Mr. Stark’s body, unsure of what to do but wanting to help.

  
The medics were efficient and quick in getting into the HYDRA base and finding them. The team only hesitated for a second when the scene in front of them greeted their eyes but snapped out of the surprise and hurried over to Tony.

  
One of them leaned down to feel his pulse. A quiet second passed, then another, and Vision began worrying. Before he could ask, the medic sighed in relief and announced, “He’s alive.”

  
Those words seemed to spark life into everyone. Two medics rolled in a stretcher, somehow managing to avoid the patches of ice, while two others bent down to lift Mr. Stark. They paused, looked at each other, then looked at Vision. Vision stared back, apathetically but not unkindly, waiting for the question.

  
The leader of the medic team, a blonde woman with hazel eyes and a sharp chin, asked, “Is there a way we can take the armor off? We can’t carry him with all the extra weight.”

  
“My enhanced strength may be enough that I could carry him to the jet myself,” Vision said. “I believe Mr. Stark has many emergency protocols in place in case he is unconscious in his suit. One of the protocols is that it is impossible to remove the suit unless you have authorization.”

  
Her eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Vision though he understand, she’s just trying to do her job and the suit protocols made that significantly harder. She tucked away a stray piece of hair impatiently before nodding yes.

  
Vision stopped his hovering and leaned over to secure his arms around Mr. Stark. If he was human, he thought, he would probably feel the cold which has made itself at home in Mr. Stark’s suit. He was getting ready to lift the man and the armor when the person in his arms jerked awake.

  
Vision stared down as Mr. Stark twisted in his arms, fresh blood gurgling from his mouth as he whispered something so muffled and soft that Vision barely caught it. Mr. Stark’s eyes were brown and unfocused until they closed as quickly as they opened and the man’s body fell silent.

  
The blonde woman snapped out of her shock faster than her team did, eyes pinned to the fresh blood staining the man’s chin. “Internal bleeding,” she murmured to herself and her team. “We need to hurry up. He’s goddamn lucky to be alive.”

 

 

As Vision carried Mr. Stark to the jet and strapped him in, he chose to stay on the jet instead of flying alongside it. He couldn’t help but think that Mr. Stark was in no way lucky as the words that escaped the man’s mouth repeated themselves in his internal processor: help me, please.

 

If Vision had a heart, he thought suddenly, he believed it would be breaking.


	2. Project H.E.R.O.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Iron Man with never fall.

Chapter 2: Project HERO

  
  


**12:12 p.m**

_Mayo Clinic_

_Rochester, Minnesota, United States of America . . ._

  
  


   Rhodey’s face was always nice to look at whenever Tony needed a break from thinking and just wanted something to look at.  The gentle slope of his nose and high cheekbones made his face very attractive to the eyes. It also didn’t hurt that the familiarity of his face gave Tony a sense of calmness.

Staring at his friend’s face was a strange habit Tony had picked up from their time in college together. Back then, Tony would stay up for a few days straight, lost in a haze of complicated designs and complex measurements. Rhodey would, of course, be asleep when Tony had worked and the boy found himself looking at his roommate’s sleeping face whenever he took a break from exhausting projects.

After a few weeks as Rodney's roommate, Tony had realized a smile would always appear on Rhodey’s lips when he fell asleep, a quiet and content smile that made T0ny’s stomach twist with unwanted jealousy about his friend’s ability to go to sleep so easily.

Rhodey, when Tony had admitted this after a night of drinking, had given him an expressed look, rolled his eyes, and smiled the same smile, leading Tony’s stomach to turn uncomfortably.

   No smile graced Rhodey’s face as he slept in an uncomfortable wheelchair next to Tony’s bedside. Ever since he graduated college with Tony, that smile had made less frequent appearances and was an even rarer sight after Tony became Iron Man.

   Tony watched his best friend’s face, his body hurting as he ignored the bandages encasing his right hand, face, and toes and simply tried to memorize as much of his friend’s face as he could before Rhodey woke up.

   A flutter of Rhodey’s eyelashes sent faint shadows across his face and the slight furrowing of his eyebrows caused his nose to scrunch up. Tony silently watched him. Rhodey wiped the sleep from his eyes, puffing out a sigh that sounded exhausted and sad. It took him a full second to notice Tony.

   “Holy shit!” He jumped, looking surprised with a faint touch of worry coloring his expression.

He looked like he’s about to stand up and go to Tony’s side. Then, he seemed to realize he couldn’t do so (Tony’s heartstrings tugged at his friend’s fallen expression) and Rhodey chose the next best thing. Grasping the wheels of his chair, he rolled as close as he could to the hospital bed.

Movements hesitant and filled with worry, Rhodey’s fingers lightly brushed Tony’s bandaged face, his face pinched and tight. His worry made his smooth face scrunch up with wrinkles that Tony wished he could reach over and smooth over.

Instead, he gave his friend a weak grin, acutely aware of the bandages stretching uncomfortable across his chin, nose, and cheeks. He doesn’t feel good, not good at all. With his multiple wounds, the fact that he couldn’t feel his right hand, and his messed up face, putting on a Confident Smile that slid on his face easily enough yet felt more like a lie.

“Heyyy, Honeybun,” Tony greeted, a slur in his voice that was entirely fake. After so many unwanted trips to the hospital, he now had a partial tolerance to medical sedatives; it was actually surprising how much of his pain the sedatives had dulled. Catching sight of his unresponsive, bundled right hand, he smothered down his desire to wave sarcastically.

Rhodey’s expression darkened, thunderbolts of anger lightening up his eyes. “ _ Hey _ ? That’s all you have to say?!” He leaned back, muscles taut with unhappiness as he settled down in his wheelchair. “Jesus Christ! You were almost dead!”

“It’s very nice that you think I’m Jesus, but I could never pull off the long hair,” he jokes.

A part of his brain was insistently telling him that Rhodey would not find the joke funny and that it was a bad idea to aggravate him. But it wasn’t like he can stop. There was an unhinging need in him to brush off Rhodey’s concern with bad jokes and lame humor. He decided to ignore his impulse control. “Although, I have been told that I’m the light of the world many times. I’m actually pretty sure that I’m a distinct cousin of-“

“This isn’t the time to be making jokes, you asshole,” Rhodey cried. Tony flinched at the sudden outburst and fell silent, dumbly staring at his friend and feeling slightly uneasy at the gathering tears in Rhodey’s eyes.

He has never been the best with comforting people, even worse when it was someone he was close to. Once, when he had first told Pepper he was in love with her, she started crying (tears of joy, she claimed later on) and he had awkwardly patted her back while hugging her. He was happy to hug her, feeling her tears soak his shirt’s shoulder as his arms circled around her and she gripped him like she was afraid to let go. But had always felt like he wasn’t doing it right, and the feeling intensified with Rhodey because Rhodey rarely cried - at least not in Tony’s presence.

“You asshole,” Rhodey repeated, weaker this time as a small tear dripped off his chin. He leaned forward, beckoning Tony with his arms. Moving closer and ignoring the dull pings in his body, Tony allowed Rhodey to pull him into a hug. His thin arms wrapped around Tony, his warmth soothing the injured man with the familiar scent of gunpowder and sandalwood.

Burying his face deep into his friend’s shoulder, Tony released a shaky breath. “I’m sorry. I was just trying to lighten the mood, Platypus. Obviously, this isn’t the right crowd.” Rhodey tensed but doesn’t say anything.

After a minute or two of just quiet hugging, of simply just being in each other’s presence, Rhodey pulled back, his bottom lip caught between his teeth as he worried it. “Pepper and Happy are, uh, downstairs, getting coffee-“

“Oh! Yes,” Tony grinned widely, “I would kill for a coffee. The nectar of the gods, I tell you.”

Rhodey gave him an expressed look that Tony was all too familiar with -  _ Stop being a dumbass, Tony _ . “No caffeine for you, obviously. Are you trying to kill yourself? You just got out of a three-hour surgery!”

Schooling his expression into one of confusion, he asked, “What happened? The last thing I remember is dislocating my thumb to reach an emergency signal - and then fainting very spectacularly I must say.”

“You dislocated your thumb?” Rhodey’s face looked dumbstruck. “I mean, the doctors said it looked like a self-inflicted injury but I told him, ‘My friend is a genius, he knows better than to act stupid.’ Turns out, I was wrong,” he said flatly, eyes narrowing.

Tony’s grin shrinked into a small smile. “I’m alright, aren’t I?” And then looked around curiously. “Um, where am I?”

“Well, ah,” Rhodey began, shifting in his chair in a way that made Tony want to nervously fidget with his fingers, “Vision and the medic team pulled you out of Siberia and to the nearest hospital. It was just a small clinic so they couldn’t do much about your more serious injuries. But they managed to find out that you had a slow brain bleed and then it was a race to get you here” - he gestures at the room - “Mayo Clinic, the number one hospital in the nation for neurosurgery.”

Tony, slowly processing the information presented to him, nodded as he looked down, eyes catching sight of his wrapped hand that was probably beyond disfiguration. He looked at his friend, eyes sharp and wondering. Yes, right there in Rhodey’s face and body. Pity and worry.

“The vid- the video,” he rushed out suddenly, fear and panic grabbing his tongue and latching on with their sharp claws. “Did you watch it?”

Rhodey’s look of sudden surprise and guilt was all the answer Tony needed. It became very hard to breathe all of a sudden. His discomfort levels peaked to all-new measures and he was extremely aware of his trembling left hand - his only working hand. Heart pounding and his skin suddenly slick with sweat, it felt as though his line of vision was narrowed to his bandaged right hand and his shaking left hand and everything else had simply disappeared.

His vision kept wavering and his breath kept coming out in short, angry puffs. A panic attack, he thought faintly, another panic attack. Nothing was clear anymore and Rhodey had become a blurry figure in the corner of his eye - a blurry figure that was soon joined by many blurry figure friends.

A hand pulled Tony forward into a hug with somebody who has small and warm. His head automatically went to rest on Pepper’s lean shoulder, and a familiar voice makes his way into his ears. “Mr. Stark-“ The voice seemed to freeze up before continuing on without a hitch. “Hello, Sir. Today is May 10th. You are at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester, Minnesota. The time is 12:47 p.m. The weather is currently slightly cloudy with a temperature of 51 degrees Fahrenheit.”

Tony’s breathing calmed down as the soothing voice washed over him. And he suddenly realized that it’s J.A.R.V.I.S.’s voice that’s calming him down and immediately raised his head fast enough that Pepper let out a sound of surprise. It was just Vision, who looked just as startled as everyone else in the room. Tony caught the android’s eye and quickly looked away.

  
  
  
  
  


His heart sunk. For a second, he had thought J.A.R.V.I.S was back. It honestly made him want to cry, the reminder of J.A.R.V.I.S.’s death doubling in with the renewed grief he felt for his parents ( _ oh god, dad, mom) -  _ so he shoved his head back down to Pepper’s comforting shoulder. She ran her hand through his hair, soft fingers only brushing the tips of the gauze wrapped around his head and released a shaky breath.

The room was silent for a brief moment. Rhodey and Pepper worriedly watching Tony calm down while Happy hovered at Rhodey’s side and Vision - he just looked confused and Tony knew he was trying to figure out why he’d said what he’d said to calm Tony down.

Then, a woman that Tony hadn’t noticed before moved forward. She was beautiful in the traditional sense, with light brown skin and dark, almond-shaped eyes and a stylish head scarf hiding her hair modestly. Her white coat and the medical chart in her hands indicated that she was Tony’s doctor. Tony mentally apologized for all the trouble he was about to give her.

The woman’s smile was open and soft as she glanced at her patient and then the chart. “Mr. Stark,” she began, politely ignoring how Tony had been hugging Pepper like a lifeline and giving him a second to collect himself before continuing, “It’s good to see you awake.”

Tony flashed her a smile, less sleazy than the smile he wore in his playboy years but just as flirty. “I’ll always wake up when a beautiful woman like you comes to see little-old-me.” Happy, expression worried and stormy, snorted from his position next to Pepper.

The doctor’ eyes flickered between Pepper, who rolled her eyes at the line, and Tony, who gave her a playful wink coupled with a sincere smile, and her face relaxed as she played along. “Well that’s certainly sweet of you, but it seems that a beautiful woman is already keeping you company,” she gestured to Pepper.

Pepper, surprised by the compliment, flushed and gained a small smile. “That’s very sweet of you Doctor Farooqi. At least somebody appreciates me.” At that, she shot Tony a teasing smile, eyes momentarily sparking with amusement.

The humor in the room abruptly takes a serious turn as Pepper schooled her features into something more serious, leaning away from Tony and placing a hand on his left arm, on the only exposed sliver of skin that’s purpled with healing bruises. As the smile faded from her face, the entire room seemed to have followed suit. “So, anything?”

“Yeah. Tell me the verdict, doc,” Tony said. Slightly pausing, the man shifted into a more exaggerated look. “Am I gonna drop dead at any second?”

A flat expression graced the good doctor’s face. “Someone is clearly looking out for you, Mr. Stark, because you’re stable right now - against all odds.”

She walked over to a white screen mounted on the white wall (everything was so white, it’s making Tony feel like a maniac in a cuckoo-house). In a few swift movements, Doctor Farooqi had pinned up three x-ray scans on the screen and flipped the switch to allow them to see the scans better. “Here are your x-ray scans.” She gestured unnecessarily at the pictures and quickly looked back at her file.

“You have multiple bruises and lacerations, much more than I’d like to list out loud. Your right ankle is twisted and currently in a cast, and your thumb is also in a similar splint to keep you from tearing the ligaments, again. Your artificial sternum, surprisingly enough, held up - although I would recommend keeping a mindful eye on it. Many of your fingers and toes have some form of frostbite but they will recover. You right hand has frostbite as well, but, um,” at that she paused, peering at Tony in a way that made him think she was slowly pulling out every secret he had.

“With such severe frostbite, we are already planning to amputate it.” The silence that followed the defeating statement was awkward and unsure until Tony broke it with a soft chuckle.

“Geez,” he spoke softly, a smile almost superglued to his face so that his expression didn’t fall into one of deep horror, “you sure don’t sugarcoat things.”

Doctor Farooqi’s mouth twisted uneasily and Tony fought the urge to scratch at his skin, which was irritating him with how wrong it (and everything around him) felt. “Your friends told me you’d prefer it if I was straight forward and didn’t beat around the bush.”

For a second, he wanted to crack another joke but found himself lacking of any humor. “Yes, thanks for that. Anything else you want to lay on me?”

She looked slightly worried for him if the crease in her eyebrows is anything to go by. Luckily, Tony’s question pulled her attention back to his injuries. “Ah, yes, one last thing. It seems that you had a slow brain bleed which started around twelve thirty. It was sheer luck that the first hospital caught it when they did with the little resources they have . . .” she trailed off, studying Tony’s medical chart with the look of someone trying to crack an extremely difficult math problem.

As if remembering that there were other people in the room, Doctor Farooqi lifted her attention from the file. Eyebrows creasing once again - a habit of hers, Tony noticed - she allowed her eyes to run over Tony’s body in a critical and professional way. Then, she nodded to the group politely and excused herself from the room, promising to come back to explain his future treatments.

Her departure left a stretch of silence that did its best to choke Tony with its demanding grip. Finally, Rhodey broke it. “Pepper, Happy, he knows we saw the video.”

Pepper’s face softened in record time, reminding Tony of the time where he would get drunk and be an absolute mess in his workshop. Pepper had the same expression now as she did when she would find him hungover and sometimes sitting in a pool of his own puke, an expression of pity dominating her face. Happy’s reaction is no better, one full of disgusting pity. Everything in all three of them is dripping with pity; from Rhodey’s gentle voice t0 Pepper’s and Happy’s faces.

“Stop it, guys,” he started, clenching his left hand as much as he could with the bandages wrapped around two of his fingers and his dislocated thumb. “I’m fine.”

Vision floated forward, face blank yet still conveying so many emotions. The strongest one was guilt. “I must apologize. While we were extracting you from the base, a medic came upon the video and showed it to me. I thought it was best to give the video and the security tape footage to the Colonel and Ms. Potts.” His guilt was very evident to Tony, and he couldn’t help but think that it was unfair. Vision shouldn’t be feeling guilty, not at all. He was barely two years old and everything about him was innocent in a way that was similar to a toddler’s.

If anyone should be feeling guilty, it should be the person who did this to him. However, if he knew Rogers, he was probably patting himself on the back for a job well done. He wondered what would happen if the media caught wind of his near death. Rogers and the rest of them would probably blame Tony for getting injured.

“It’s alright, Vision. You did what anybody in your situation would have done.” Tony tried for a sincere smile but knew that it looked more like a grimace than anything. Thoughts rushed around in his head at record breaking speeds. What if one of medics got a copy? What if it got out somehow? The Avengers would be ruined-

With a sharp inhale, he cut his thoughts off and focused on his friends.

“Is FRIDAY with any of you?” he asked softly. At Pepper’s questioning, he gave her a lopsided grin. “Not to work, I just need to talk with her.”

A Starkpad that Tony hadn’t noticed before beeped from his bedside table. “I’m here, Boss,” FRIDAY’s Irish voice filtered through.

“Great. Can you guys give us a moment?”

After some seconds, Happy and Rhodey nodded as Pepper said a quiet “sure” and wheeled Rhodey out of the room, Vision behind her as he shut the door quietly. The room felt very big without them crowding him. It was a sudden relief to be somewhat alone with only FRIDAY to witness him breakdown

“Okay, okay, okay,” he whispered to himself reassuringly. “It’s fine. I’m fine.”

“Boss?” Her Irish tilt is more potent with her worry, and he blinked, his mind automatically going to J.A.R.V.I.S. ( _ why did Vision call him sir? _ ). FRIDAY isn’t J.A.R.V.I.S., he reminded himself, pay attention. “Are you alright, Boss?”

Tony’s face gained a small smile as he grabbed the tablet with somewhat difficulty; who knew grabbing a tablet would be so hard with your pointer finger and your pinky bandaged and your thumb in a splint?

The concern coloring FRIDAY’s voice was welcomed, and he couldn’t help but be proud of the growth she had shown so far in such a short amount of time.

_ Proud like a father would be of his daughter _ , was the comparison that wandered through his head. Strangely enough, Tony liked it.

“I’m fine, Fri. Just a little ruffled up.” The tablet was blank but the blinking red light at the top showed that FRIDAY was listening.

“Boss,” she paused, and he could almost feel her hesitation, “I lost connection with you.”

His breath hitched, and he gripped the tablet tighter. “I’m right here, Fri. you didn’t lose me.”

“But you’re hurt . . . because of me,” she admitted, voice robotic yet still so full of emotion. “I couldn’t quickly neutralize the targets before I lost my connection to the suit,” she rushed out shamefully.

Tony fell silent, and his heart began hurting just as bad as it did in Siberia.

Because . . . because FRIDAY shouldn’t be blaming herself for Tony’s mistakes or for his paranoia.

The limits she was facing are entirely his own fault. After ULTRON, the team had demanded he place blocks on FRIDAY (so they didn’t end up in another ULTRON situation, they explained, faces bitter and suspicious). He had foolishly agreed and purposefully crippled his own child.

“No, it’s not your fault, it’s mine,” Tony argued, hastily, barely letting a half-second of silence to fill the room before contradicting FRIDAY’s statement. “I deserve full blame, it’s 100/0. I should have kept my guard up against him. And anything else that you think is your fault is definitely mine. From now on, no more blocks on you. That was a mistake on my part and I should have never tried to stop your full potential. I only hope you can forgive me, Fri.”

The tablet stayed quiet, and he could sense that she was searching for the right words to say. When she eventually replied, her voice was less sad and more teasing, “Only if I can accept 50/50 blame.”

He grinned; playful back-to-back, he could do. “80/20.”

“60/40.”

“90/10?”

“Boss!” Her laughter was affectionately contagious, outlined with happiness and playfulness, and he found himself chuckling along. He preferred the happy teasing over the guilty apologies any day.

“Alright, alright, 70/40. And that’s as low as I'll go,” he mockingly warned her.

Things were silent for a moment as FRIDAY’s giggles faded away. It was a quiet air that allowed his thoughts to linger on his injuries: Amputation and a brain bleed (not to mention who knows what has probably happened to his fucked-up chest).

When could he start going out in his suit again? Could he even go out in it ever again? Is this the point in his life when he’s finally injured himself too much to be Iron Man? Could he even handle no longer being Iron Man, or would he go back to the armor and kill himself trying - just like Pepper had always predicted would happen, back when his obsession was at its highest?

  
  
  


A flash of yellow out the corner of his eye snapped him out of his thoughts and he followed the color to see a bouquet of strong yellow sunflowers in a water-filled vase. Even from far away, he could read the card, which was written in the big block letters:  _ Hope you feel better, Mr. Stark. -Peter Parker. _

All thoughts of retirement fell from his mind as he remembered Peter Parker. The kid still needed him, retirement wasn’t an option. Tony wasn’t the first choice for a mentor for anybody. But. But Peter needed resources and tips, and Tony could help him succeed as a superhero in the many ways in which Tony had failed.

Tony worried his bottom lip and called out, “FRIDAY, start a new project.”

The screen lit up and a hologram popped out in its familiar blue hue. “What would you like to name it, Boss?”

He tilted his head and thought for a minute. “H.E.R.O., Having an Eager and Radical Omnipresence.” Not his best work but he had a concussion so he excused the name.

In a split-second, the name became neatly printed at the top. It’s not the funniest or more clever but it gets the point across. From now on, his presence and influence would need to be spread far within the Avengers and Accords news.

People needed help, and he’d be damned if he didn’t help them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I listened to a lot of Queen, AC/DC, and Guns & Roses while writing this and now I'm kinda hooked.  
> Anyways, yeah, the amputation tag is for this chapter. It's only a mention in this chapter, but Tony does replace his right hand (I've been playing Avengers Academy and the idea came to me) as well as his fingers with fake ones. I actually got the idea from another fanfic but I don't remember which one.
> 
> If anyone wants to recommend some good Team Iron Man fanfictions, be my guest. I think I've read all of the good ones and I really need some new content.
> 
> I will be making a second part of this. I think it will either be about the New Avengers/Tony getting the support he needs, or the Exvengers getting captured and tried. Who knows, maybe I'll do both.  
> Oh! I know the HERO acronym is cheesy, but I really tried on it, so be nice in your criticism (and I wouldn't discourage suggestions if you wanna try and come up with a better one).  
> (Also, anyone else getting a very IronHusbands vibe? I'm torn between them and IronStrange.)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know I made kind of a mess with the tags so I'll just ramble on in here. Technically speaking, with Siberia's average temperatures, you'll get frostbite in about thirty minutes. But, for the sake of the story, let's pretend that the suit offers some coverage and Tony is able to live through eleven hours of Siberian hell.
> 
> Also, I research a bit about the dislocation thing, and it turns out that, yes, you can dislocate your thumb if you put your thumb inside your fist and pull hard enough to tear your ligaments. So I figured Tony couldn't dislocate his thumb that badly, and it says that if your dislocation isn't that severe, you can still move your thumb. In case anybody is wondering how Tony moved his thumb. 
> 
> Anyways, the title comes from Black Sabbath's "Iron Man" song. It's a really neat song and my inspiration for his fanfic basically comes from that song.


End file.
